


It’s not about the Money…

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Rimming, bottom!Dean, underage!sam (16)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s internal wires are twisted beyond recognition, because really—who solicits their <i>teenage</i> brother for sex in a last ditch effort to get him to stay home from a Halloween party because their Dad is out hunting a werewolf? Apparently, he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s not about the Money…

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for my October [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[**smpc**](http://smpc.livejournal.com/) entry. Also, it’s [](http://blackrabbit42.livejournal.com/profile)[**blackrabbit42**](http://blackrabbit42.livejournal.com/) ’s birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB!! I am 100% sure this was not what you envisioned, but I do hope it’ll work for your needs. Hope you have a GREAT day, my dear. You deserve all the good things!!!♥ ♥ Extra, super thanks to my much beloved beta, [](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/)**sleepypercy**. Title stolen from Jessie J.

_Snick_. The sound would be practically imperceptible to most people. But Dean Winchester isn’t most people, and that sound isn’t nothing. That sound. That _snick_. That’s Dean’s little brother trying to climb out the screen window. And there ain’t no way in _hell_ Dean’s about to let that happen. Not tonight. Not on Halloween with Dad out on a werewolf hunt.

He opens the door to his younger brother’s room just as one of Sam’s overly-long legs is halfway out the window.

“Sam, where do you think you’re going?” He pauses when he sees that his brother’s got on a pair of tight black leather pants. “Actually—scratch that question. What the hell are you wearing?”

A muttered “dammit” is followed by Sam hauling his scrawny body back inside of his room. At least he had the sense not to run. Dean’s legs may be bowed, but he makes up for it by being _fast_. He could outrun Sam’s gangly self any day of the week, and they both know it.

“You do realize it’s Halloween, right? And I’m going to a party. Obviously.”

“I might not have a diploma, but I ain’t stupid, Sam. What are you supposed to be, anyways? A hooker?”

“No. I’m Angel.”

“I think you’re missing the wings, Sammy. And the white. Really, I’ve got to say, I’m getting the prostitute vibe from those leather pants and that black shirt.”

“I didn’t say _an_ angel, Dean. I said Angel. Like from Buffy.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re sneaking out so that you can pretend to be a lame-ass, re-ensouled vampire?”

Sam snorts and rolls his eyes. Whatever. He’s 16 and dressing up like a douche-bag vampire on television. Vampires aren’t even real. Every hunter worth his salt knows that.

“Yes, Dean. Exactly that. Now let me go. _Please?_ Nothing bad is going to happen to me in the next few hours. I’ll be home before midnight. I promise.”

“No.”

“Seriously? After all the times I’ve covered for you with Dad?”

“Not happening, Sammy.”

“What if you come with me?”

“As Buffy? Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t do long hair or tiny dresses.”

“I dunno, Dean. I think you’d look pretty hot.”

“Nope. Out of the question.”

“Look. I’m going—with, or without you.”

Dean can’t let Sammy go. It’s too dangerous out there tonight with a werewolf on the loose, but he’s still got one trump card to play. Something that’s he’s been trying to ignore for years now. Something that’s wrong. Really wrong between the two of them, and Dean has to take a deep breath and spit the words out fast before he can’t go through with it.

“I’ll pay you to stay.”

Sam laughs, and it’s harsh. Mocking. His dimples are showing, but there’s not a trace of happiness anywhere on Sam’s angular face.

“Seriously? What am I, five?”

“No, that’s not--”

“You think you can just pay me twenty bucks and I’ll miss out on the social event of the year?”

“No, Sam, listen.”

“You know what? Fuck you, fuck this. Dad’s not here, and I’m leaving. Right now.”

“You’re not _listening_ ,” Dean practically yells. “I’ll pay you to stay here and fuck me.”

The silence that falls almost immediately feels awkward, considering they were just shouting at each other. But now Sam’s staring at him, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, and Dean’s starting to turn red. His face, his neck, the tips of his ears.

He’s put it all on the line, everything he can think of to get Sam to stay, and he’d thought it would be enough. But he must have projected his own faulty wiring onto Sam. Of course he hadn’t wanted Dean. Sam had just been putting every single popsicle, lollipop, and banana in his mouth because Sam likes sweets. Not because he’d been thinking of Dean. He’d only been looking at Dean because Dean been looking at _him_. God, he’s sick. He should take the five-hundred dollars he won last night hustling pool and go seek professional help. No one solicits their younger, _teenage_ brother for sex in a last ditch effort to get him to stay home from a Halloween party, just because Dad said to make sure that Sam didn’t leave the house. This is a whole new level of fucked up. Even for him.

Dean wants to disappear into the floor, but barring that option he’d better get his flask ready, because Sam’s a stubborn bastard, and if he’s going to go to this damn Halloween party, Dean is too. He just needs a little help, a little liquid courage to keep breathing—to keep looking after Sam. Dean can do this, of course he can. Making sure Sam is safe, that is his job. Dad trusts him to keep Sam out of harm’s way.

He won’t fail. Not again.

Dean’s halfway to the liquor cabinet when Sam’s voice stops him. “Wait. Are you serious, Dean? You’d pay me…to fuck you?”

Dean swallows down his fear, his guilt, his shame. He straightens his shoulders and turns around, looking up at Sam (when did his brother outgrow him anyways?).

“Yup,” he says popping the ‘p’ the way he knows that Sam hates. “Know you’ve wanted to for some time—so here’s your chance, big boy.”

“How much?” Sam asks, ignoring the dig, and Dean can see the wheels turning in his head. Probably thinking of all the SAT prep books that he’s been bugging Dean about buying. And—what else was there? A graphing calculator maybe?

“Four-hundred.” Dean still needs money to feed the two of them for the rest of the month, in case he doesn’t snag any more hours at the auto shop. Everyone knows everyone around here, and Dean can’t hustle pool again without the risk of being run out of town.

“Alright,” Sam says. “Say I agreed, what would you want me to do? Blow you?”

Sam’s boner is proudly displayed in his leather pants—it’s even bigger than the last time that Dean had caught a glimpse—and Dean’s becoming more confident now that Sam’s actually going to say _yes_. Damn if the thought of Sam on his knees doesn’t make him horny. Maybe this will even help him get Sam out of his system. Maybe after tonight, all of his wires will straighten out.

“Among other things. Basically, you do whatever I want, all night.”

Sam goes a little pale, “You want my ass too?”

“Nah. Not tonight. But I might want to stick my tongue up that tight butt of yours.”

This time, it’s Sam who’s blushing. “You…you’d want that?”

“Have you looked in the mirror recently, little brother? Hell yeah, I want that.”

“Alright,” Sam says, jutting out his shoulders as he slides his hands into his back pockets, putting his collar bones on prominent display. Dean can’t help it if he starts to salivate; Sam was always a good-looking kid, but these days he’s downright _hot_.

“Is that an alright, as in ‘yes, I’ll stay here and fuck you, Dean’?” he asks. He needs to be absolutely, 100% sure that Sam’s fully willing here.

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you, Dean. That is, if you ever stop talking and get your ass on my bed.”

Dean takes his time climbing on to Sam’s worn down mattress. The house Dad’s rented out doesn’t have the best of insulation (if any), so Dean leaves his clothes on. He settles in with his back to the headboard, legs splayed.

“Blow me,” he says, holding eye contact. Challenging Sam to back down and say _no_. He doesn’t. Of course not. Because he’s _Sam_.

He climbs onto the bed with surprising grace for a kid who often trips over his own two feet and unzips Dean’s fly. Dean’s dick is already twitching in his pants, trying to jump towards his brother’s long fingers and wide palm. Sam halts for a second, possibly unsure of what to do, although Dean can’t tell for certain.

“Atta boy, Sammy,” he coaches. He’s never really minded teaching other people how to make him feel good. It’s a heady feeling, all the control he holds with just a few words. “Take it out.”

Sam’s hand shakes momentarily, before Dean covers it with his own. “You okay?”

His brother huffs and gives him a patented bitch-face. If he’s being honest, Dean loves when Sam’s lip curls as he makes that particular expression. Just the vague hint of feminine beauty radiating out of lean muscles and prominent bones.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just…you better fork up the money when I’m done.”

“What do you take me for? A liar?” Dean traces his thumb over Sam’s lips. Sam raises his eyebrows at that. Fine. Dean will concede that it was probably a poor choice of words.

“Alright, so I lie all the time. But not to you, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam returns. He doesn’t give Dean any time to respond. Instead, he takes out Dean’s dick and swallows it down.

It’s not even close to the best blow job Dean’s ever had, not by a long shot, but it’s Sam, and that makes up for the fact that he seems to think he needs to really suck. It’s obvious that Sam doesn’t know the seal of his mouth does all the work for him.

“Hey Sam, ease up a little,” he says, pulling Sam’s head off of him for a second. “Focus your tongue on the head and use your hand to play with my balls.”

In what seems like the first time in forever, Sam obeys without questioning. Diving back down, Sam practically makes out with his dick. His tongue is warm and wet, hitting all of Dean’s sensitive spots, and Sam seems like he’s actually enjoying it now that Dean’s bucking into his mouth.

“Fuck yeah. You’ve always been a quick study, huh, little bro.”

Sam licks Dean with increased enthusiasm when he says that, so Dean runs his mouth off again. He wants to see just how many of Sam’s buttons he can hit with a little dirty-talk. “Knew you’d be perfect for this. That I could pay you and you’d open right up. That you’d look fucking gorgeous with my dick shoved down your throat.”

Sam groans, lips vibrating against his cock, and Dean pulls Sam’s head off his penis for a second time. “Close your eyes,” he orders as he strips his cock. With Sam between his legs, Sam’s spit dripping down his balls, and Sam’s upturned face and stupid nose in front of him, it doesn’t take Dean long before he’s shooting off warm, sticky strands across Sam’s face.

Like a good brother, he makes sure that most of his spunk is cleaned up before he allows Sam to open his eyes. Sam wipes the rest of Dean off his face with the sleeve of his black shirt.

“Ew. That was disgusting. Did you have to come on my face?”

“I’m paying you four-hundred dollars,” Dean reminds him.

“Fine. Anything else, or are we done?”

“Done? Are you kidding? That was our warm-up round.”

“What’s next then?”

“You. On all fours, ass facing me.”

Dean doesn’t turn around, instead he watches as Sam’s body moves fluidly until his little brother’s ass is presented in front of him. Perfectly wrapped up in black leather. Dean takes a moment to grab Sam’s ass, running his finger over the seam of his pants before reaching around and undoing both the button and the zipper.

“Fuck, Sam. Commando?” he asks as the tight pants stick to his brother’s thighs.

“I could hardly fit _myself_ into these pants. No room for anything else.”

There’s no debating that point. Dean bites his lip as he pulls apart Sam’s ass to get his first look at his brother’s hole. Both of their breaths hitch when he runs his thumb over the pucker.

“You sensitive there?” he asks as Sam practically pushes back on his finger.

“Yeah.” Sam sounds breathless. “No one’s ever touched me there before…but it feels good. Like…really good.”

Dean groans in approval. Suddenly, he can’t wait any longer. He’s _got_ to get his tongue in there. He licks a flat stripe first, then pulls back to see Sam’s red hole gleaming under the incandescent light.

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters as Sam wiggles his ass, inviting him in.

He licks around the rim, dipping only the tip of his tongue into Sam, until his brother is whining—begging him to stick it in further. Then Dean uses his both of his thumbs to really stretch Sam’s ass open until he can see every pretty red inch of his brother. It also allows him to get his tongue on all of Sam’s insides that he couldn’t reach earlier. To be honest, what Dean loves most is that instead of being a moody, temperamental teen, Sam is practically worshipping at his feet (or really his tongue) again. Depending on _him_. Dean misses the days when they didn’t fight every day. When Sam didn’t butt heads just for the sake of arguing. So having Sam beg him to come. Yeah. That does it for him. Definitely worth his hustling money.

Much to Sam’s dismay, he eventually takes his tongue of his brother’s ass. In all fairness, he misses the warm heat of Sam’s body too. He looks over at the clock; it’s almost twelve. Huh. He must have spent over an hour buried in Sam’s ass.

“Deannn,” Sam whines.

“I know, I know. But I do believe part of the deal was for you to fuck me. You ready?” he asks.

“Oh hell yeah,” Sam says enthusiastically. Dean’s not really sure that he’s ever seen Sam move so fast in his life. His brother is on top of him before he can speak another word, practically tearing his pants off. Dean hardly has time to slick his brother up with lube before Sam is holding his dick steady against his hole, and then he’s pushing in, filling Dean up from the inside out. They both let out a string of expletives once Sam’s all the way in, balls slick with sweat and lube, pressed warmly against his ass.

“Gonna move there Sammy?” Dean questions, even though he knows that Sam is probably doing his best not to blow his load.

“Hold on,” Sam says as he swipes a piece of hair out of his face. “Alright.”

Sam starts with slow, deep movements that can hardly be counted as thrusts.

“C’mon, a little faster.”

“But I’ll come,” Sam argues. Dean doesn’t care, they have the rest of the night. He fists his own cock, as Sam picks up a little speed.

“That’s good, Sammy. You’re doing real good,” he encourages, although it’s becoming hard to speak with the way Sam’s occasionally hitting his prostate, how his dick is stretching Dean’s rim with every movement he makes.

“Yeah? You like giving it up for me, Dean?” Sam asks, clearly gaining confidence with every grunt that Dean is letting out of his mouth.

“It’s just as good as I imagined.”

Sam laughs. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh? About my cock splitting you open.”

“Yeah.”

“Such a slut, Dean,” Sam says. But he looks proud, almost. “I knew if I waited long enough you’d ask me…but hell, I didn’t think you’d pay for it.”

“What?”

Sam leans down to nuzzle against Dean’s neck. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing so hard these last few months? I’ve been trying to get you to admit you actually wanted this. _Us_.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. Sam wanting him, it’s like his best dream and worst nightmare all at once.

“Thought you wanted to be normal?” he asks. Half-hoping Sam will take that back, half-hoping he doesn’t.

“You and me? Normal? Not a chance.”

They stop talking then as Sam speeds up, jerking his hips erratically before he comes with a final deep thrust. It doesn’t take long before he follows Sam over the edge, coming all over both of them, although less this time around. Sam tries to collapse on him but Dean pushes him off, feeling Sam’s deflated dick slip out of his body.

Dean detangles himself from Sam’s grasp and cleans his brother up with a warm washcloth first, even though it’s Sam’s come that is starting to run down the back of his thighs. He grabs his wallet from his pants and counts out the money before shoving it into Sam’s hand.

“It wasn’t about the money,” Sam says, looking like he’s about to refuse.

“Thought you needed books for your SAT?” 

Dean _wants_ Sam to live a normal life. No matter what’s gone on between them, or if Sam’s internal wiring is just as twisted as his own. Sam’s his little brother. And Sam deserves better than him. Sam’s smart and independent, and if either of them are going to get out of this thankless, poor-life-expectancy job, it should be him.

“I do, but I could get them another way.”

“I’m not going to let you steal them. Take the damn money, Sam. You earned it.”

Sam reluctantly shoves it in his back pocket.

“Thanks,” he says as Dean puts his pants back on. “But stay with me tonight. Please?”

He really shouldn’t. This was supposed to be one-night thing. A way to keep Sam safe, even if Dean had wanted it. He should be cutting Sam off. Getting him ready for different, better life. But Sam looks like he might cry, and Dean’s never been good at refusing Sam. Besides, there’s still a werewolf outside, and Dean should really make sure that Sam stays safe. “Alright. But if you snore, I’m taking off.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You better not.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean slides under the covers and wraps his arm around Sam. Pulls him close until he can feel the fast beat of Sam’s heart through his chest. Tomorrow he’ll tell Sam they can’t do this again. That Sam should go find a girl and study his ass off. That he should apply to a good school as far away as he can find. But right now, Dean breathes in deeply, committing to memory how Sam smells after sex. All sweat and testosterone wrapped up with a hint of something sweeter. Sam deserves something better—but for him? Dean’s pretty sure this is as good as it gets.  



End file.
